
It’s a frenzy of holiday preparation at the Levin house with the first night of Chanukah approaching. Melissa and Jared finish up tasks, working remotely from home as eight-year-old Jacqui and six-year old Eliana are entrusted to the care of Kristen, the babysitter. Adding to the cheerful chaos is Sadie, Kristen’s two-year-old white doodle who also happens to be the best furry friend of Westwood’s superstar therapy dog, Annie.
Annie expertly navigates the mayhem with a signature calmness, prancing around the house, checking in on her family members with a nudge of the nose or a rub of the leg. Sadie was all wiggles, eagerly seeking attention on my lap as Annie found a comfortable spot to lay down in the corner. Until she caught sight of my favorite pair of light pink Ugg boots. With an endearing combination of curiosity and mischief, Annie slyly grabbed a boot from the Levin mudroom and began nibbling, her one-eyed gaze locked on me with what can only be described as playful defiance.
“She has this quirky habit of stealing shoes when people come over,” Melissa said with a laugh. “Our trainer asked us if we wanted her to extinguish that behavior but, you know, sometimes the kids like that she’ll grab their shoes and bring them over for them to put on.”
Annie’s shoe-snatching antics are about as rebellious as she gets. You’ll rarely hear her bark and even more rarely see her jump. The serene, even temperament is what sets Annie apart.
When the Levins first brought Annie home to Westwood, during the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, life was already hectic. Melissa and Jared were juggling full-time jobs, parenting two young daughters, and, shortly after Annie’s arrival, dealing with a broken leg for Jared. Despite the challenges, their neighborhood rallied together to help. Friends and neighbors pitched in to walk Annie and assist the newest neighborhood canine as she adjusted to unfamiliar surroundings. It was Annie’s first connection to the Westwood community.
Bonding with her new neighbors was the natural next step in Annie’s incredible journey from lovable pup to a certified therapy dog, one that began even before her arrival at the Levin home, shaped by unique challenges that molded her into the compassionate companion she is today. Annie’s extraordinary ability to connect with people was identified early. She’s not just another furry companion; she’s a healer, an educator, and an advocate for celebrating differences.
Annie was born on July 11, 2020, the puppy of health-tested parents who were cleared of more than 160 DNA-tested genetic issues. Despite that strong genetic background, Annie arrived with a congenital condition affecting her left eye.
“She was never able to see from her left eye, but her right eye is perfect,” said Melissa. “After trying less invasive options, doctors had to remove Annie’s left eye due to fluid issues that would have been dangerous for her.”
Though the condition was determined to be extremely rare, it never dampened Annie’s spirit. She quickly established herself as the sweetest, most gentle, loving puppy and her one-eyed view on life made her more extraordinary.
“She’s awesome as she is,” Melissa said. “She’s had to learn to get comfortable even when she can’t see something on that side of her body – to be listening, to be smelling, trusting of the situation – which has been a huge asset.”
Before Annie entered their lives, Melissa, Jared and the kids were looking for a dog that could eventually be trained as a community resource companion. Melissa had worked with a number of therapy dogs throughout her time as an licensed social worker and adjustment counselor in the Newton Public Schools.
Annie’s original owners knew she would need extra care from her eventual adopters because she was born with glaucoma, so they kept her longer to ensure the perfect fit.
“She was very attached to humans from the start because of what she’d been through,” Jared shared. “They felt, personality-wise, she would be a good fit for our family.”
Annie’s gentle demeanor made her a natural candidate for therapy work, so the Levins brought her home to Westwood. Melissa and Jared prepared Annie for the birth of their son, Aden, in 2022, playing high-pitched noises, baby monitor sounds, and even vibrating a crib. They also introduced Annie to sounds she might encounter during her community visits, including oxygen machines and oscillators.
“I don’t think she liked oscillators,” Melissa remembered. “But we wanted to make sure she was okay with all these high-pitch and frequency noises she may encounter while volunteering. We’d say, ‘Annie, lay down. Annie, stay,’ and reward her as she gained comfort with the noises.”
The path to becoming a certified therapy dog took time, commitment and consistency.
“It was two years of formal training every single week,” Melissa said. “The kids would go with us to the training sessions so they could help us work with Annie. We began at GOFI (Golden Opportunities for Independence) in Walpole and we clicked with a particular trainer who went on to open her own place, so we followed her there.”
A highlight of Annie’s advanced training was when she got to practice in real-world environments.
“What I liked about the last stage of Annie’s training was that everything was out in the community,” Melissa explained. “We’d go to LL Bean, Bass Pro Shop, Home Depot. We’d sit out at patio restaurants. The day that Annie had her test, we were at the JP Licks at Legacy Place in Dedham, because they wanted to see her out and about around people she didn’t know, and she was perfect. She just laid down and let anyone and everyone pet her.”
Annie passed with flying colors and is now certified through Therapy Dogs United. While she is often referred to as a “community resource dog,” she is not a service dog and does not perform specific tasks for any one individual.
“People said, ‘Oh, you could take Annie to Aruba,’” Melissa recounted. “But she’s not a service dog. She doesn’t need to be with us for a medical reason. That’s where there’s a big difference. She’s not completing specific tasks for me, or for anyone in our family. A service dog is protected under the Americans with Disabilities Act and they can accompany people with disabilities in all areas where members of the public are allowed to go. They have a very important job to do. Annie is here as a wonderful asset to the community. We don’t take her into public areas that are exclusively for service dogs. We know there are people who break those rules and then it makes it harder for people who need it to actually access those places. However, we do appreciate the places in Westwood, like University Station, who love dogs. Annie is allowed to go into Target and Marshalls.”
In her day-to-day work, Annie volunteers twice a week at The Lark Center in Norwood with her other handler, Becca Erwin, an occupational therapist and founder and Executive Director of The Lark Center.
“Animals have an amazing way of connecting with people who may have a hard time connecting with other people,” Becca shared. “Annie is such a good listener, and so patient and intuitive. She helps to facilitate progress in our clients by helping to establish a baseline of safety and connection. She does this for our staff as well. She benefits our whole community!”
“She does a lot with their preschool-age and elementary-age kids,” Melissa continued. “Before I began my work as a Senior Clinical Social Worker at Dana-Farber, Annie would visit my school to help some of my transition-age students who had developmental disabilities.”
Annie’s calming presence has made a difference at the Westwood Montessori School and she has done grief and nursing home visits. She has also helped kids who were nervous about dressing up for Halloween.
“There were kids at The Lark Center who wanted to wear Halloween costumes, but were a little unsure about the texture,” Melissa said. “So Annie would try on the costume first and then the kids would want to wear it too.”
Sometimes, families in town will reach out seeking help for their children who are scared of dogs.
“We’ve had some local parents contact us about their child who might be uncomfortable or anxious around dogs,” Melissa explained. “We’ll start with a base level – maybe Facetime or sending pictures of Annie with the kid’s name on a piece of paper, and eventually get to the point where Annie’s actually sitting with them in-person.”
Melissa finds it especially rewarding when kids overcome their fears thanks to a meaningful interaction with Annie. One of the kids at The Lark Center made Annie a handmade Valentine that read, “What I love is that she is very soft and gives me kisses.”
“It’s nice when somebody reaches out with something like that,” Jared said. “Annie loves her community and it’s nice to give back.”
Annie’s partial blindness, far from limiting her, contributes to her empathy. She adapts to new surroundings with patience, calmly navigating hallways or busy classrooms.
“Sometimes when people first hear about her one eye, they’ll say, ‘Oh, I’m really sorry,’ and it’s like, you don’t have to be sorry,” Melissa emphasized. “Annie loves working. She wants to be with people, and not just us, but other people,” she added.
At home, Annie behaves like any playful pup – running around, chasing toys, and cuddling with the kids. However, despite her easygoing nature, Annie knows when it’s time to switch into therapy dog mode.
“She’s like a little local celebrity,” Melissa joked. “She’s very friendly, and I think having the community embrace her so early on really made a difference.”
Melissa’s background in special education and social work shaped how she used Annie’s story to encourage empathy and acceptance.
“When I used to teach in special ed, we’d talk about disability identity and learning, and what a great example – ‘Here’s Annie, right? Look at what she’s been able to accomplish,’” Melissa said. “It’s kind of perfect, because in many ways, her eye issue becomes an amazing strength, teaching kids about empathy and trust.”
Embracing Annie’s differences opens up honest conversations with children, whether it involves a missing eye, a scar, or simply how to interact gently with a dog.
“She shows people that differences are something to celebrate,” Melissa remarked.
When asked about future goals for Annie, Eliana piped up with her desire.
“I saw a TikTok of a dog painting,” she said with a smile. “We could probably teach her to hold a paintbrush in her mouth!”
She’s no Picasso (yet), but it’s clear Annie will rise to any challenge that brings comfort and joy to those around her. From helping frightened children overcome their fears, to spreading inclusion in schools, Annie has proven that a dog’s love really can make an impact.
As Melissa said, “She’s not just a therapy dog – she’s a reminder that we all have the ability to make a difference, no matter our challenges.”